It's Not A Doll! It's an Action Figure!
by Holly go lightly1
Summary: *UPDATE*Teachers, the summer, and the question: Who Drinks Wine Coolers? Yeah...you're interested.
1. Great, now I need counselling

DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING!!!! It all belongs to Sirs Mel Brooks and Lady Rowling....It's a horrible "Spaceballs" rip off. (:

****

Snape's Lil' Drama

It was a lovely sunny and lush day in July at Hogwarts. Winky the House Elf tripped along the corridors in a manner that is just about as joyful as a House Elf can get. She liked Hogwarts in July, when all the pupils had evacuated and only the teachers remained. She liked to watch them "let their hair down." Yesterday, she observed Master Flitwick sit outside on a tiny lawn chair in a pair of pastel Bermuda shorts and canary-yellow-rimmed sunglasses, sunning himself with a sheet of foil; this morning, she watched Mistress Trelwalny storm around the halls in a pink nightgown and painted tennis shoes, pestering Filch (who was wearing a "Hug Your Cat Today" shirt over a pair of overalls) to give her back her Danielle Steel novel; she even observed Master Lupin (who'd returned over the summer) heading for Hogsmeade in a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt that read "I'm Young, Single, and I Loves to Mingle" to purchase a few green Frisbees that had just arrived at Zonko's for his friend, Sirius Black.

Running down the halls as Donna Summer's "Love to Love You, Baby" blasted from Mistress Sprout's open greenhouse, she found herself at the threshold to the Potion's dungeon. Dare she enter? For some unknown reason, a compelling twinge that was altogether foreign to the elf urged her to open the door. How did Master Snape spend his summer?

She thrust her head inside the room and peered around. She saw Master Snape sprawled out in front of a roaring fire place, speaking sinisterly.

"So...you Marauders thought you were so smart. Thought you could save the world yourselves, eh? Well, now you are MINE!"

Winky leapt and fervidly observed the fireplace. Was he conversing with someone through the hearth? No. No head of any person was in the enormous flames. Then, her eyes dilated and adjusted to the darkness and she saw something in Snape's hands.....

A little miniature doll of Harry's mother, Lily. It looked rather dim-witted. He was moving it across the carpet he was stretched out across.

"No, no, no, no, no!" he squealed, altering his voice so that it sounded like a harsh mix between Marilyn Monroe and Minnie Mouse. "I'll never rule the wizarding world with YOU!" He made the little doll pantomime running away.

Snape snatched up another little action figure, this one a distinct facsimile of himself. It looked a little more dashing then the real thing. "Yes you will," the doll coached, Snape altering his voice so that it was his own again. The two dolls met in mid-carpet; the Snape doll was jumping around very animatedly. "Your type is always attracted to power and money. And I have BOTH!"

"Not so fast!" Snape dropped the Lily doll (overtly having a ball with this little psycho drama) and picked up a doll that looked like Harry's dad, James. It looked twice as stupid as the Lily doll; Winky even swore it had a little bit of plastic drool coming out of its slack little lips. Snape had altered his voice so that it sounded like a shrill little boy.

"POTTER!" the Snape doll drawled evilly.

"Hey, hey, hey," Snape squeaked, the James doll skipping about on the carpet, "that's me! James P! Here to save the day like always and to get the girl! Hiya, honey!" James acknowledged the Lily doll.

"Not this time! POW!" 

The Snape doll had ripped the James doll's arm off and was beating him with it. 

"Ahh! Ahh! My delicate Potter-ness-ality-ability! Ahh!" The James doll writhed and screamed. "Owie! Owie!" It then gurgled and keeled over.

"Nyhahah!" the Snape doll crowed, doing a little dance.

"Hey!" Snape snatched up a Sirius Black doll and it looked like it was ganging up on the Snape doll. Its voice was distinctly that of Goofy the Disney character. It sounded livid but helpless and incredibly dumb. "What'd you do to my buddy????!!!"

"The same thing I'm going to do to you, Dog Boy! Eh!" The Snape doll kicked the Black doll and it fell over as Snape made some incredibly juvenile noises, like the kind a five year-old boy makes when he's simulating a car wreck. "And you too!" He picked up a Lupin doll and did a WWF smackdown move on it. (The Snape doll that is.) Finally, all the Marauders stopped twitching and screaming and were good and dead. The little Snape doll then turned to the Lily doll. "Now, Princess, we are alone!"

"Ewwwww! I hate you hate you hate you hate you hate you!" the Lily doll squeaked.

"No you don't," the Snape doll snapped. "You've loved me since our first year. Kiss me!" He made the two dolls start kissing.

"No!"

"Kiss me!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Yes!"

Snape giggled as the two dolls kissed.

"Master Snape?" Winky asked.

In a flash, Snape was on his feet, dolls clutched to his chest. He was wearing a pair of light-blue pajamas with grinning frogs and a matching nightcap. "WHAAAAAAAAAAAT??!!??!!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!" he screeched, his eyes flashing in a terrified manner.

"Um....er....Winky is wanting nothing, Master Snape."

Snape looked a hue relieved, but he was still clutching the dolls desperately. "Um...Good." He looked awkward.

Winky poked her head out of the room.

"Er...Winky?"

The elf placed her head inside once more in a timorous fashion. "You is wanting Winky, sir?"

Snape arched an eyebrow. "You didn't see anything...did you?"

"No, sir. Winky is not seeing Sir playing with sir's dolls again, sir."

Snape looked relieved. "Good! Now scram, you little parasite!"

Winky closed the door behind her and raised her own thin eyebrows. In a manner most unlike a House Elf, she sighed, rolled her eyes, and said, "Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay, THAT was whacked." She then clamped a hand over her mouth. "Winky is acting like a no-good American house elf! Winky is bad!" Winky then pleasantly went about beating herself up (like all house elves do) and fearing ever looking at Professor Snape again.

*Winky: holly, you is being a BAD fanfiction writer, you is!

*holly: Shut up and go hug a rainbow or something!


	2. Is that the rule?

It was a silent kitchen, save for an irritable Severus (though, one wouldn't have him any other way) and a **highly **irritable Minerva, raging over, well...delicately, that time of the month. Normally, one would not find anyone in a heated kitchen during the summer when there is air conditioned comfort everywhere else in the castle, but they were camped before the freezer in a death stare.

"I asked you, what's in the fridge?" Minerva echoed, ornery in sweatpants, which do no one any justice.

"I **said** all we have are Blue Shark Popsicles," he hissed menacingly.

"Confound you, boy!" she barked in a voice that would frighten an unaccustomed ear quite a bit. "I _know _that's a dirty, dirty lie. There's at least _one_ Fudgsicle and _certainly one_ Chocolate Éclair bar, and if I find it, you know what I'm going to do, I'm going to rip your head off and fondue it!"

"There is nothing but BLUE SHARKS in there, you can look for yourself, you old bag." He threw the garish cardboard box at her torso, where it bounced off dangerously, spilling an assortment of wrapped and partially eaten Blue Sharks on the floor. 

She thrust her hand inside the box, despite the strident "NoooOOOOOoo"'s Severus growled in response, and held out a lone Klondike bar, the silver wrapping bearing the male professor's signature. "Ha! I knew it," she squealed like Sherlock Holmes catching Jack the Ripper at a cutlery shop with nine women. "You're holding out me, on all of us! You said there weren't any left!"

Severus gave her the look of an injured prince. "A man has to survive by lies, sometimes." She began to unwrap the chocolate oasis greedily. "No! It's all I have!" he squealed. "Besides...." He crossed his arms. "You can't eat that, it has my name on it. That's forbidden."

"Boy," she sneered condescendingly, "any petty little hex you've put on your precious little Klondike bar, I can break like an expensive piece of electronic equipment."

"No, no, didn't anyone ever tell you? It's an unspoken rule, you write your name on something, nobody else can eat it."

"Well, **I'm **on the rag, and there's an unspoken rule that any woman in that situation gets Lion's Share over any chocolate."

Severus paused in thought. "Even white chocolate?"

"Certainly not, that isn't chocolate, it's vanilla."

"Is not."

"Well, nobody eats white chocolate, so men can have it."

"No, you can have it!" Severus snapped unnecessarily. "And have a Blue Shark, too!" He kicked over an unwrapped Shark so it began to bleed blue onto the bottom of her sweatpants. "And I want my damn Klondike back." 

Their little quarrel was interrupted by a duo of merry laughter. They turned to see Flitwick and Sprout with a timer in Sprout's hand.

"It's time, they're ready," Flitwick chirped, almost skipping over to the fridge. He pulled out his Elmo Big-Boy plastic stool from under the sink and thrust his head within the fridge. He pulled out a cheap plastic tray with many tubes, alternately colored plum, red, and orange. "Our homemade Popsicle kit is done."

"I beg your tap-dancing pardon?" Minerva muttered, one eyebrow trying to escape off her face in bemusement.

Flitwick leapt down from his stool, both hands full of plastic trays. "Put that under the sink, will you?" Severus heartlessly kicked the stool under the sink, one leg snapping off. "Now, that was just cruel," Flitwick clucked, putting down the two trays. "Here is the alternative to those horrible, preservative-ridden Klondike bars."

Severus look challenged. "You're dancing a thin tightrope, Flit."

"Right here, we put juice inside these molds and let them sit over night. Here." He popped out one Popsicle. "We used all the juice in the fridge. We have an orange pop." He gave a twitching Minerva a sunny pop. "A cranberry pop, for sour shorts." He presented one to Severus, who broke off another leg from the Elmo stool in spite. "An apple pop for you." Sprout tittered over it. "And a red grape juice pop for me." He snapped off the last one. "And they're all handmade." He and Sprout began to treat themselves to their nutritious snack.

Severus leaned over the lone pop in the mold. "What's that disgusting one?"

"A milk pop."

"You **are **a sick one."

They all quietly ate their Popsicles, their wholesome Popsicles, their...boring Popsicles....

"Damn it!" Flitwick threw his Popsicle in the sink. "That's disgusting. And you broke ma'damn Elmo stool, you sadist! How dare you. I remember you as a kid, I was never mean to you."

"Remember when Sprout when through her shoulder-pad phase in the 80's?" Severus mulled idly.

"You infuriate me!" Flitwick snapped.

"Do these have alcohol in them, because they're scrumptious...."

"Of course not...Wait." He leaned over.

"What are you doing?" Severus defensively lifted his pop above his head.

"I just wanted to try it."

"I don't want short people germs on it."

"I could call my union on you for that!"

"Well, I could call my union on you, too."

"Really?" Flitwick asked, confused.

"Don't be ridiculous," Severus growled. "Now leave me and my Merlot pop alone."

"That's a Wine Cooler pop," Sprout corrected.

The pop flew across the room in disgust. "Wine Cooler?" Severus echoed. "What kind of a pansy do I look like? Who drinks Wine Coolers, besides you?" He flounced out of the room with one afterthought: "Minerva, if you take that Klondike bar, I _swear_ I'm coming back there and knocking you out."

Severus took to going to Dumbledore's quarters. In the manner of a teenager, Dumbledore knocked on the door to the Headmaster's secret headquarters: the guest bedroom. "Aaaalbus." No answer. Severus knocked his head against the door three times. "AaaaAAAlbuuuUUUUUS." Another bash. "I wanna come iiiIIIInnnnniiIIInnn."

"THE DOOR'S OPEN."

Severus walked into the lilac room with the guest towels and shell-shaped soap. Dumbledore was sitting on the soft down comforter in front of the only television with a remote, slowly nursing a box of Milk Duds, watching Lifetime.

"You are so sad, sir," Severus sighed. "Is this a _Mermaids_ marathon again?"

Albus didn't respond. He had a wet, half-eaten Milk Dud in his beard and the other half was near his ear. 

Severus glanced at the set. "Oh. It's a _Golden Girls_ marathon. I know you have 'the hots' for Bea Arthur, you sick old man, sir. You could be her father."

Albus looked at him with bright eyes. "Did you know they were going to have a gay man on _Golden Girls_, but they wrote him out of the show?" Severus slumped against the door frame. "What's the matter? Are you hungry?" Severus nodded sullenly. "Well, have a Popsicle."

"We don't have any."

"Well, have a Chewy bar."

"That's your solution to everything, isn't it? We have so many damn Chewy bars, I don't know whether to kill myself or you."

"Snapple?"

"Ew."

"Have a Lean Cuisine."

"They suck." Albus looked at him in shock. "Sir."

"Is there anything else?"

"Uh, nooo."

"Want to watch this with me?"

"A little."

Severus took a seat at the edge of the bed.

"Severus, honey, you really need a girlfriend."

"Why? I have a calendar."

"What?"

"Nothing."


End file.
